That Day in the Bathroom
by marym91
Summary: "What's so funny, Granger?" he spat. "Is it funny finding me here, crying? Bet you can't wait to go sodding tell Potter and Weasley. You'll have such a fine old laugh that the Weasel will wet himself." "I – I won't tell," I said weakly, truthfully. Written for HP holiday fic exchange.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: This is my first fanfiction in centuries, so I hope all will enjoy it.

It's miserably late, but this was written for the HP holiday fic exchange and for Nikki.

Prompt:

Hermione/Draco- Hermione was the one to find Draco in the bathroom, not Harry. What happens when she takes a moment to care about him?

* * *

I started loving Ronald Weasley my second year at Hogwarts.

I thought that his freckles looked golden in the sunlight as we walked to the Hogwarts Express going home, and when he stuffed pumpkin pasties in his mouth as he sat next to me in our compartment, my heart jumped at how adorable he was with his face covered in powdered sugar and bright orange crumbs.

When I thought of him visiting my bedside in my petrified state that year, my heart would flutter. I knew that we were meant to be together, that the chemistry was there and the fire burned as brightly as his hair. I simply had to remain patient until he realized it, too.

And I thought that he had realized after the Lavender debacle over the past few days. I thought that he knew, through all the pain that he had caused me, including going out with sodding Cormac McLaggen, that I was the girl that he was meant to be with.

But I just wasn't sure if he would admit it.

Making comments on his general dislike of Lavender after their break up wasn't enough; if Ron was going to be mine now, well, he had better decide and tell me. He had better make a move and give me a direct apology in order for me to so easily become even his best friend again. I knew that all that was left was for him to find the courage to choose me. That was all that I needed. He could act ignorant of our mutual affection and fate together all he wanted, but I knew.

At least I knew until that day in the bathroom.

* * *

The Katie Bell incident was all Harry could talk about the past week, even after Ron's life or death situation involving the poisoned mead. I knew that he was obsessing over it, and what he thought was his duty to convict Malfoy of the crime wasn't finished. All he needed was the right situation and momentum to get himself into the trouble everyone was expecting. It would be the kind of trouble Snape and others were just waiting for to kick the 'Chosen One' out of Hogwarts. I had a horrible feeling about it, and it grew worse as I watched him study that dreadful advanced potions book every day.

"Harry, it's time to put that book away," I would say.

"I know what I'm doing, Hermione," he said every time, irritably turning his back on me. I found it very disrespectful since I was only looking out for his welfare.

But that was not what was bothering me at the time, of course. Ron was my primary focus, now apart from Lavender. He would smile and blush when I looked his way in Charms, but I was tired of the silence. I was ready. I was ready now to take that step and have a relationship with Ronald Weasley, my unofficial counterpart since second year.

I had been strained all day; I knew I had messed up a specific number in my essay for Professor Vector's class and I had been upset that Ron hadn't apologized to me or made a move in my direction since he was officially split from Lavender. If the frustration I was feeling was affecting me academically, it was time to rise above it. I would not allow someone like Padma Patil to surpass me in Arithmancy grades.

Luckily, Vector had relinquished my scroll and allowed me to fix the mistake without any argument. Relieved, I headed down from the fourth floor to the second to head to the library. But that's when I saw him.

"Harry?" I asked, barreling down the stairs once I saw his expression. It was one that I knew too well - that determined look of vengeance and boy heroism, black hair wilder than ever and green eyes burning with a temper, that so frequently got him into trouble.

"Harry, what is it?" I repeated, jumping off the last stair and catching him by the arm.

"Malfoy!" he roared, trying to get loose. I had to set my book bag down to hold him back. "It's him. He did it, Hermione. He's trying to kill Dumbledore. First Ron, now Katie." He tried to throw me off of him.

"Harry," I said seriously, warningly. "Don't do this. Do you want to be expelled from Hogwarts? Do you want to call anymore attention to yourself than the Prophet already does?"

"Hermione, he's trying to kill – "

"We can't be sure of that, Harry. We need to leave him alone. You know Dumbledore has to be aware of everything, so you can't do any good by fighting with Malfoy." I looked into his eyes imploringly. "You know you can't."

He sighed and turned away from me, holding his scar.

"Go have dinner with Ginny," I encouraged knowingly.

He nodded at me, smiling halfheartedly. I breathed deeply in relief as I watched him walk away in the direction of the Great Hall.

But then I decided to disregard my own advice, and picked up my book bag, heading down the corridor to the girl's bathroom.

* * *

It had not been a lucky guess. Being a frequent late night visitor to the library, I often passed the second floor bathroom and, instead of simply hearing Myrtle's wailing and harassments to the poor, ignorant first years that dared to use those toilets, I heard another voice.

Of course, being curious, on more than one occasion I had briefly leaned against the door to listen. I could never quite make out the words in between Myrtle's absurd bawling, but I knew that it was Draco Malfoy's.

It wasn't the normal, icy drawl that I was so accustomed to hearing taunt me whenever our paths crossed. No, it was like a wail itself, and I always felt embarrassed to have been eavesdropping of someone's, let alone Malfoy's, almost wild expression of grief. I had always left within seconds, never saying a word about it to Ron or Harry. It was too private, and it would be too insensitive for me even to reveal the hated Slytherin's bereavement.

But today, I decided to be brave.

I don't know what possessed me to do it. Maybe it was my Gryffindor spirit. Maybe it was my consistent desire to know everything. Maybe some foolish part of me thought that I could help him, just like house-elves.

But Draco Malfoy wasn't a defenseless magical creature. He wasn't a specimen or a puzzle for me to work out. And he most definitely wasn't someone who would be impressed or applaud me for my chivalry and classic, scarlet and gold courage.

In fact, he was something that irked me more than anything; he was something that I knew I could neither understand nor explain, just as I couldn't reconcile the reason that I went into the bathroom.

I leaned against the door of the toilets for a moment to make sure that he was there. It was worse than I had ever heard eavesdropping before, an untamed crying and wailing was raging inside, and it wasn't Myrtle's. I took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.

He didn't notice me at first, didn't notice me until I gently set my bag on the floor and walked toward him. He swirled around from the sink he had been hunched over, his eyes so ferociously, achingly red that my breath caught in my throat. His white blonde hair was sticking up in all the wrong places, like I had just missed his effort to pull it out. His shirt was untucked, his tie undone, his robes unbuttoned and hanging limp at his sides.

"Granger," he growled, a monster that I should never have faced. "What the hell do you think you are doing here?"

"I- I," I stumbled, frightened and floundering about for a reason I always could procure in a normal situation. I gulped. "I thought that this was a girl's toilet."

He sneered at me, obviously not buying my exceedingly weak reasoning.

"Ooh, Hermione Granger!" Myrtle screeched, floating out of her stall. "Leave, so I can comfort my Draco."

"Piss off, Myrtle," Malfoy said dangerously, grey eyes not leaving mine.

Without a word or even a sniffle, Myrtle dove down into her toilet and disappeared, water spewing unceremoniously on the tile. I snorted.

"What's so funny, Granger?" he spat. "Is it funny finding me here, crying? Bet you can't wait to go sodding tell Potter and Weasley. You'll have such a fine old laugh that the Weasel will wet himself."

"I – I won't tell," I said weakly, truthfully.

He laughed darkly, wildly, turning away from me to look back into the mirror. "What are you doing here, Granger?"

I was silent for a few moments. And then, before I could control myself, I had said it.

"I heard you crying."

He said nothing. After a few moments, I looked up at his reflection in the mirror to see that he was staring at me.

"I'm not your charity case," he finally said.

"I didn't say that you were – "

"I'm not Potter or Weasley or some fucking house-elf – " he roared.

"I know!"

"You owe me nothing," he said, whirling around to look me in the eyes. They were stone cold, unwavering, and I suddenly became aware that I had no good reason to be in here with him, and he knew it.

"I just – I just," I started choking out awkwardly. "I wanted to see if you were all right. I – I've heard you in here before."

"Oh, so all of fucking Gryffindor House knows," he said angrily, turning and slamming the nearest sink with his fist. "That's just brilliant – just fucking makes my day – "

"Just me," I said quickly and everything went silent again. I felt vulnerable, my words suspended in the air.

He looked at me then, with my half untucked Oxford and wrinkled sweater, my flustered face and frizzy hair. I suddenly became aware of my ink-stained fingers and how chapped my lips were from the cold. But this room was colder than Hogwarts grounds, colder than snow or ice. It was too cold to even shiver, because I knew that he still hated me.

"I know what you think," he said softly, almost too quiet for me to hear. I just stared at him. "Poor, poor Draco Malfoy can't handle all they ask of him, isn't brave enough to do his duty."

"That's not what I think," I said seriously. He laughed at that.

"Then what, Granger? Think I've had a lover's spat? Think I'm sad about my course grades? We're not all as petty as you."

"How did you know about me and Ron – "

"You're very transparent, Granger," he said simply. "All those glares you send the Weasel and his big-nose, blonde ho are hardly a subtlety."

"Oh?" I felt anger building in my chest. "Oh? Well, I should think that you could learn a few lessons in being subtle, as well, Malfoy. Poisoned mead? Cursed necklace? Those are hardly grand accomplishments of intrigue."

He pulled out his wand, his long, white fingers shaking as a he pointed it at my face.

"Shut the fuck up, mudblood," he growled. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Maybe not," I said, too furious to be afraid. "But I know that, for some reason, you're not trying hard enough. I know that, whatever it is, you don't really want to do it, because you're smarter than this."

"You're wrong," he said, and I was shocked to see tears running down his cheeks. "You're – you're wrong, Granger."

"I'm never wrong, Malfoy," I said softly, daringly. He just stared at me, his dark-wooden wand still pointed at me, hand still quivering. I stood there, defenseless, ready to be hexed for messing with fire.

And then he dropped it to the floor, the wand clattering loudly on the bathroom tile. He covered his face with his hands and slumped down on the floor himself, crouching over and crying softly, desperately.

I had never been an impulsive person. I had never reached out and kissed Ron, I had never demanded to know if he loved me or not, and I never, ever did anything without a very organized, developed plan.

But this was different.

I would be lying to myself if I said that the desire I had then to comfort Draco Malfoy did not surpass what I could ever remember feeling with Ron, wanting him to love me, wanting him to want us. No, it was more. In that moment, I was in control. In that moment, I could call the shots. In that moment, I knew that I wanted to help the Slytherin who had been the bane of my existence for six years.

I cautiously walked forward and sat down next to him. Even in his weeping state, I knew that he would not hesitate picking up his wand and hexing me. But I knew that, for some reason in that moment, I was willing to take the chance.

I sat there for a moment, letting him cry, before carefully reaching out a hand and placing it on his back. I noticed then how thin he was, his bones protruding with every heaving sob. I felt a wave of pity for him. I suppose I never thought that anyone else was suffering through Voldemort's return besides Harry, Ron, and I. But here was another sixth year, suffering in an entirely different way. An enemy way. And I felt sorry for him.

"Malfoy," I whispered, unsure of how to soothe someone who has been my rival for years. "Malfoy, everything will turn out. Everything will be okay."

"No," he sobbed into his hands. "No, you don't know him. You don't know what he'll do to me."

I didn't have to ask whom he was talking about.

"It's all right," I continued, rubbing circles on his back. "Things can change. You can change. You can make it through this."

"I – I can't," he said, looking up at me suddenly. I let my hand fall from his back. "He's going to kill me if I don't kill him." His face was wet with tears, eyes desperate and hopeless.

And then I did something crazy. I reached out and wiped the tears off of his cheeks. He didn't say anything, didn't move. Just looked at me with the same desperation.

"We don't know what will happen," I said quietly, seriously.

He grabbed my hand from his cheek and squeezed it tightly. I wasn't sure if he was doing it for reassurance or out of hatred for me. I just stared at him.

And then he kissed me. He kissed me so hard and furiously that I lost my balance and fell over. But he caught me, his hands on my waist and in my hair so passionately that I swear it couldn't be real. His face was still wet from tears and his lips were cold as ice, but when I opened my mouth and started kissing him back, I can't remember ever feeling as hot and as on fire in my entire life. My heart was pounding and my hands tangled in his short hair as he pushed off my robes, hands on my stomach, on my thighs, under my shirt. I moaned as he bit my lip, unbuttoning my shirt quickly, clumsily, pointedly.

"Draco," I breathed, as he began kissing down my neck.

He didn't respond, nibbling my skin and continuing downward. I moaned and pressed my body against him, needing to destroy the distance.

"Draco," I moaned again, my hands splayed under his shirt and on his back, nails digging in his skin as he sucked on my skin.

He ignored me again, crushing my lips with his own desperate ones. His hands wandered up my thighs, throwing up my skirt and I kissed him harder, wanting him more than I ever wanted anything. His fingers toyed with my undergarments, and I moaned in frustration.

"Draco," I begged, looking him the eyes. He stared back at me, panting. He bent down and kissed me softly, intensely. He removed his hands, removed his body. He stood up and picked up his wand.

"Malfoy, what are you?"

"_Stupefy!_"

* * *

When I woke up in the Hospital Wing the next morning, Harry and Ron were there.

"What happened?" I said immediately after I woke up, sitting up and staring at them. My head was pounding mercilessly.

"We don't know, Hermione," Harry said with a sigh. "You ended up here last night. Looks like someone stunned you and you hit your head."

"But how did I get here?" I asked, alarmed.

"Madame Pomfrey doesn't know. She said she walked out here to check on a student last night and there you were."

I sighed with relief. No one knew.

"We were so worried, Hermione," Ron said, taking my hand. His bright blue eyes caught mine and I waited patiently for my heart to do its usual flip, but it didn't. I smiled at him and looked at Harry.

"We'll find out who it was, don't worry," Harry assured.

"So, am I free to go?" I asked, ignoring his determination to take revenge.

"No," he said. "Pomfrey wants you until lunchtime, so at least you're only missing one class this morning, don't worry." He chuckled.

I smiled at them. They really were the best friends any girl could ask for. And they would always be here for me when I needed someone, even someone just to talk to. My heart fell thinking of those who didn't have that luxury.

We talked for a few minutes, until Madame Pomfrey shooed them away to examine my head.

"My dear, you're free to go," she said, after making me take a vile tasting potion. "I advise no more late night strolls."

I nodded and got out of bed. I picked up my book bag and started walking out of the Hospital Wing.

"Oh, Miss Granger, this came for you," the medi-witch said, holding out a folded piece of parchment. "It was on your bed early this morning. Not sure who it's from."

"Oh, um, thank you," I said, taking it. I walked as quickly as I could out of the Wing and stood in the corridor, unfolding it quickly. It looked like it was written very quickly, with blots of ink everywhere and no signature.

_You were right. You're never wrong. _

But I knew who it was from.


	2. Cont'd

All,

I've received so many requests to continue this story. I passionately would like to continue, or to begin a new fanfic prompt that is similar and D/Hr.

I'm posting this new chapter to ask for prompts or fic requests– please PM me.

Thanks for all of your support and future help.  
Mary


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